


How to Give and Take

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-08
Updated: 2009-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:58:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ministry functions drive Albus Potter insane. And the only way he can cope is by keeping a running commentary on the presentations. Guess who overhears him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://hp-cross-fest.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_cross_fest**](http://hp-cross-fest.livejournal.com/). Thanks to the absolutely amazing [](http://pink-mint.livejournal.com/profile)[**pink_mint**](http://pink-mint.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

The Ministry socialites huddled around the grand stage like wasps to their nest, clapping quietly into the palms of their hands at all the right moments. Their smiles were fake, teeth perfectly white and gazes vacantly pleased. They murmured rumors like ghosts from one ear to the next, backstabbing secrets behind high-class sneers.

It was the exact atmosphere Draco loathed, the kind of thing his parents had been good at in their time. Even Astoria was better-suited to lie and smile when she meant to frown, but Draco had realized quite quickly that he was not cut out for these events. Despite his distaste for the politics and vanity of Ministry ceremonies, Draco knew if he didn't attend, the _Daily Prophet_ would have a field day, especially when the receiver of such ceremony was the great and wonderful Harry Potter.

Harry stood off to one side, speaking in quiet, anxious tones to his wife. As a Potter, Ginny learned to pull herself together into something of a woman. Years ago, Draco would have laughed at her attempts at classy society events, but these days, even Draco appreciated her subtle, unique beauty. Over a sip of some champagne, they shared a semi-familiar nod. Perhaps she was bored out of her wits as well. Draco couldn't imagine how anyone could come to these things more than once per week, but all the _Daily Prophet_ articles cited that the Potters were in attendance of nearly every event.

Mid-sip of his champagne, Draco watched Harry excuse himself from Ginny's company and head his way. With a roll of his eyes and a well-caught curse under his breath, Draco downed the remainder of his drink—he would certainly need it if Harry intended on talking to him.

"All right there, Malfoy?" Harry asked, extending his hand with a smile as he approached.

Draco managed not to sneer. He and Harry had come to some suitable arrangement of mutual acquaintanceship…though sometimes it was a chore not to resort to snide, snarky commentary in his presence.

"Fine, Potter," Draco said, ignoring the outstretched hand in favor of reaching for another drink as a house-elf passed.

Harry fidgeted next to him for a moment before nodding. "How's your father?"

Draco choked on his champagne. "Never one to beat around the bush, are you?"

"Just curious as to why you're here, that's all," Harry said. Draco was pleased to note the slight flush of embarrassment on Harry's cheeks. It seemed in old age, at least he had become human.

"Aren't you supposed to be off-duty, Potter?" Draco snapped, as he made of point of looking away. "I thought this was your little award show, not another interrogation."

"It's not. I mean, I didn't come over here to interrogate you." A moment of awkward silence followed before Harry managed to break it. "I read they are placing him in the psychological treatment ward at St. Mungo's, and I was just going to—"

"Oh to hell with this," Draco growled. "There's got to be something stronger than champagne at that sorry excuse for a bar over there. Thank you for the sentiments, Potter. I will pass your best regards onto my father, surely. Now, you ought to tend to your little wife over there, drink another pint for your nerves, and get on that stage for your acceptance speech so I can get the bloody hell out of here."

Marching off, Draco pushed himself through the crowd towards the back of the room. Little whispers followed in his wake, a wash of rumors and make believe. Draco had long ago learned not to take anything to heart, but it was still hard when the talk was regarding things well beyond his capability to address.

Finally thrust to the furthest corner of the room, where a long bar had been setup, Draco leaned on it and waved the barkeep close.

"What is the strongest drink you can concoct, boy?"

The boy behind the counter considered in silence before disappearing under the bar to rummage for drinks. When he popped his head back up, he waved his wand at several bottles, which began to mix, shake, and stir, until a dark mauve liquid filled a large pint glass.

Draco accepted the drink swiftly and downed half of it in one swig. Hanging his head and brushing his hair back, Draco stared down at the mirrored tabletop of the bar. The chandeliers above reflected light from every angle, dripping like crystals from the lights to the floors. Distantly, Draco followed one of the glowing strips of delicate light from ceiling to floor, his thoughts meandering to dark places.

Lucius in Azkaban, Lucius out of Azkaban, Lucius arrested again, Lucius shoved away in St. Mungo's, like some lunatic…

Astoria, waltzing into his life and waltzing right back out of it on the arms of another man, leaving Scorpius without a mother at a young age like some cruel monster, citing all of Draco's awful habits as reason for divorce in a very public _Daily Prophet_ exclusive…

Jaw tense, Draco felt numb to the announcements on stage.

"Thank you all for coming!" some pretty witch was saying, her cheeks rosy and her eyes wide. "As you know, we are here to honor Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, defeater of Voldemort, the—"

"Auror of the Millennium, King of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Expert of Expelliarmus," drawled someone nearby, cutting off the witch on stage in low tones under his breath. "Welcome to Ministry Event number one billion, Mr. Potter, how can we serve you today? Perhaps a sponge bath for you and your ego?"

Draco couldn't help but smile at the snide remarks. It wouldn't have been strange to find similar thoughts drifting through his own head during one of Potter's acceptance speeches to his many awards for humanity, fundraising, or whatever prize they were offering him this week. But it wasn't Draco speaking for once, and that caught Draco off guard.

"Mr. Potter accepts his three-thousandth award for bravery in the face of insert X event here," the stranger continued. "Mr. Potter, what _will_ you do, now that you have saved all the children in the orphanage, inquiring and impressionable minds are desperately desiring to know?"

Raising his head, Draco lifted his glass in a toast. "Here's to that," he said to the boyish figure at his right. Chuckling, Draco sneered towards the back of the stranger's head. "And here I thought I was the only wizard in the world who still thinks Harry Potter is full of absolute shit."

When the stranger turned around and flashed Draco a broad grin, Draco nearly fell off his stool. Albus Potter sat before him, all boyish Potter charm and doofy charisma. Unable to choke out an apology, Draco mentally checked himself—he should have known better than to say those things aloud, no matter who the stranger was.

Albus snorted. "Might want to lift your jaw up off the floor," he hummed, pressing his plump lips to the rim of his martini glass for a sip. "I know I'm surprisingly attractive, but you needn't gape."

Heat flooded Draco's face. He was sure it was only partially embarrassment and mostly the alcohol. "I wasn't gaping at… Never mind. I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"That you were snarking at Harry Potter's son? Please, I've heard worse." Albus gave Draco a once over and then his grin widened. "You're Draco Malfoy."

Gritting his teeth, Draco nevertheless managed a curt nod. "I am. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Draco moved from where he'd been slouched over the bar, with hopes of making himself invisible in the crowd nearer to the stage. A sudden grip on his wrist halted his progress.

"I'm Albus, by the way. Not to be confused with James, who's older."

"I lost count after Potter's first one," Draco said, gaze glued to Albus's small fingers, olive against his pale wrist.

To Draco's surprise, Albus laughed so loud he had to cover his mouth to keep it from echoing out into the rest of the room. "You did, did you?" Albus asked. "Haven't been keeping track of my dad all these years?"

"I certainly haven't." Draco was even more surprised to find his body responding when Albus's fingers began stroking his wrist. Jerking it away from him, Draco rubbed his hand against his dress robes. "If you'll excuse me," he repeated.

"Oh come on," Albus called, worrying his lower lip between rows of pretty white teeth. "Don't you want to keep me company?"

"I'm sure anybody here would just love to keep you company."

"I don't want just anybody—I want you."

If heat hadn't been flushing Draco's face before, it was now. There was no mistaking the tone in Albus's voice, and looking at him, Draco could see the desire stamped clear across his face. Years ago, Draco would have flung him in the nearest loo and been done with it, but these days, it was hard to figure out when the young men weren't joking or out for a story to sell the _Prophet_.

"Don't look at me like that," Albus snapped. "I'm not asking if you want to suck my dick."

"Merlin," Draco exhaled, turning away as he downed the rest of his drink.

"I'm just hoping you'll keep me company while my father bumbles through this speech mum wrote for him."

"He didn't even write it?" Draco blanched. He was unable to help the laugh that spilled out afterwards, honest and scoffed.

Albus shook his head, snickering as he patted the seat beside him and gave Draco what could only be described as a 'come-hither' glance. Draco remembered that look, remembered what it was like to flirt like Albus was flirting, the harmless innocence of youth and the way all little flirtations were calculated and important. It was endearing to some degree, something Draco would have overlooked as inconsequential before tonight. But it was getting harder and harder every second to ignore the low lids of Albus's gaze, the guiltless pucker of his swollen lips, the slouch of his fine back, the fringe of dark hair that looked so very much like Harry's.

"You are so tiresome, Mr. Malfoy," Albus sighed. "Don't make me beg you to keep a poor boy company during such a droll evening."

Draco clenched his jaw hard. "Don't call me Mr. Malfoy."

"Much better!" Albus said, beaming. "Now sit. Have another drink and tell me all the things you hate about my father."

Nodding to the barkeep for a refill, Draco glanced down at Albus's drink and sat warily beside him. "What are you drinking?"

"Cherry butterbeer."

Draco quirked a brow. He had never in his life heard of such a disgusting mix of flavors, but it suited Albus somehow—it was sugary, no doubt, laced with alcohol Albus could barely taste. "Mm, you'll have something else if I'm to be seen sitting beside you all evening."

Albus leaned in close and chuckled, the subtle scent of cherry wafting off his breath. "All evening? Now when did I promise that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It's Draco," Draco snapped. "Lace that firewhiskey with licorice, please, for this one," he added to the bartender.

" _Draco_ ," Albus purred. "Brilliant. Now, why, exactly, are you here if you hate my father so much?"

"I don't hate him."

"Of course not. You only say your closest friends are full of absolute shit to strangers."

Their drinks arrived and Draco was thankful it gave him the cover to think up a comeback. After a swig, he motioned to Albus to do the same. "Taste that. You'll like it."

"First, tell me why you're here. Then, I'll down this whole glass in one go."

Draco snorted. "I'd love to see you try, boy."

" _Albus_ ," he corrected.

"Albus. I'd love to see you try drinking all that in one swallow."

"If I do, you'll tell me why you're here?"

The challenge set, Draco matched it with a chuckle. "Sure. Why not?"

Before Draco could stop him, Albus tipped the glass back and began to swallow. Jaw dropping, Draco's eyes widened as he watched Albus's Adam's apple bob up and down with each gulp, until half the glass was gone and Albus's face began to flush. A bit of whiskey trailed down Albus's lips and throat, slithering to stain the collar of his dress robes. An unsightly urge to lick it clean crossed Draco's mind, and he gripped his own glass tightly to stop himself from doing anything so foolish and brash. Arched out like that, Albus was vulnerable behind his drink, swallowing and swallowing and red in the face; Draco had never seen anything so unbelievably attractive.

Albus set the empty glass down with a heavy exhale, cheeks flushed and lips swollen and pink from exertion. For a moment, Albus looked unbearably smug at having accomplished his challenge, but then, as the whiskey settled in his stomach, Albus looked as if he were going to retch at any moment.

"Come on," Draco said, standing quickly to help Albus do the same. "Let's get you to the loo."

Albus nodded slowly and they set off together out of the ballroom. Draco knew the layout of the Ministry extremely well, having worked there for years, and so he led Albus to the nearest bathroom he could find. Once there, Draco steered Albus awkwardly into one of the stalls. Stumbling in the confined space, Draco fell back against the door, and Albus slipped out of his arms and onto his knees before the toilet.

Gagging, Albus sniffed softly. "That was absolutely disgusting," he said, glancing up at Draco over his shoulder. "Why did you make me drink that, you awful brute?"

Draco wasn't sure whether to laugh hysterically or pet the gentle ruffle of fringe clinging to Albus's forehead to soothe his pain. He settled with a chuckle and sliding his fingers through the tuft of hair just once. "You were the one who challenged yourself to swallow it all."

Albus continued to stare up at him, dark green eyes so reminiscent of Harry's it was almost alarming. They were wide, just like his, a sweet mix of naivety and unconventional intelligence. Draco lifted his fingers, somewhat afraid of what he might do if he kept running them through Albus's hair like that, but they just fell right back into the same rhythm as Albus filled the space between them. His nimble fingers began climbing under Draco's dress robes, brushing the hairs on Draco's legs.

"That's not the only thing I can swallow," Albus whispered.

"Merlin," Draco said, watching as Albus bent and nudged his head under the dress robes. Already, heat was flooding Draco's body, and he was positive his cock was at least half-hard. His balls ached for that first touch, for Albus's pretty mouth to close around the head or lick up the base. It had been a long time since Draco had had anything like this. Astoria had always been so cold, so lifeless in his arms, like some collectible doll. But feeling Albus's hair, he was real and tangible, hot and pulsing beneath his fingertips.

"Tell me if I should stop," Albus said, pressing Draco's dress robes up to his hips and holding them there with Draco pinned to the door of the stall. "I don't have to."

"Stop talking," Draco snapped, fingers trembling as he fisted them in Albus's hair even tighter.

Albus moaned as he worked Draco's pants down to his thighs and pulled his dick out. Stroking it several times, Albus looked up again, as if to ask Draco if he was doing it right. The look in his eyes made something in Draco break.

"How old are you?" he croaked. He should have known this; it was public fact, and Draco was sure Albus was around Scorpius's age but it needed to be defined.

"Seventeen," Albus said. He mouthed his way up Draco's thigh, towards his cock. "Just old enough."

Albus had stolen the words right from Draco's mouth, so Draco just guided his head closer until Albus's perfectly plump lips were brushing over the sensitive skin at his balls. Seventeen. Old enough to know better, old enough to be legal, old enough to make his own mistakes and grow from them, old enough to have experienced a little but not nearly enough to make it routine or droll. Old enough for Draco's tastes.

Arching off the stall door, Draco pressed closer to Albus's mouth as Albus suckled his way over each ball, taking one between his lips and then the other. Driven beyond arousal, Draco hissed in pleasure as Albus finally took his dick in and began bobbing his head. Looking down, there was little to no difference between one Potter or another, but Draco was quite sure he wanted this one and this one alone. Still, he couldn't help but think what it would be like to smother his dick down Harry Potter's egotistical, self-important throat. He allowed the thought to spiral through him for a moment.

Bucking into Albus's mouth gently, Draco made very few noises; the small pants that escaped his thin lips and the squeak of the hinges on the door were the only sounds between them in the small space. And when he felt close to orgasm, Draco gripped that handful of mousy-brown hair and pulled it hard. Below him, Albus winced and wrenched his mouth off with a pop, lips still connected to the head of his cock by a thin-slivered mix of pre-come and spit.

"Let me swallow you," Albus whined, face pained as he squinted up at Draco. "I can, I'd like to, you won't hurt me—"

Draco yanked Albus to his feet, fumbling to hold his face still for a kiss. Strangely, it had been years since Draco had kissed anyone in the way he kissed Albus Potter, and it released something feral inside him that growled to be set free. Albus tasted like bad whiskey, licorice, and cherry butterbeer, a retched combination but so sugary-sweet and perfect against his tongue.

Clawing at Albus's robes, Draco managed to get them up and off Albus's skinny form before diving in for a second taste. Albus's body was much smaller naked under Draco's roaming hands. Albus consisted of bony ribs, jutting hips, too-broad shoulders, and gangly limbs, like some child who'd just hit a growth spurt and didn't know what to do with the extra inches. It was strange to claim every inch of such shapes, all hard, inconsistent planes of flesh and bone.

When Draco's hands roamed down over Albus's hips, Albus moaned aloud. Draco bit his tongue to cue him to be quiet, but that only seemed to make Albus louder. Finally, Draco pulled away and forced Albus to turn around and face the wall. Albus's hands were attempting to grope at him, so Draco pinned them roughly to the wall above the toilet, forcing Albus's legs to straddle the toilet bowl.

One hand again claiming Albus's hair, Draco shoved his forehead to the wall as well, forcing Albus still.

"Stay," he demanded, voice low and gruff, unrecognizable in its eager, hungry growl.

Removing both hands from Albus was almost painful, but Draco pulled away nevertheless and conjured lotion out of some of the toilet paper in the stall. He rubbed the lotion generously on his dick and then shoved his hand beneath Albus's pants, fingering his puckered hole.

Albus bucked wildly at the first touch and Draco's cock throbbed in response. It had been some time since he'd had someone so loud and animated like this; while it was a turn-on, it was also somewhat annoying given the indiscretion of the situation was enough to cause concern. So Draco used his free hand to cup Albus's mouth as he stretched him with two fingers and then three, until Albus was practically swallowing the length of his fingers and biting at them to keep from screaming.

Finally, when it seemed neither of them would last another breath, Draco pulled Albus's pants down just enough to get his dick between the crack of his ass. Carefully, he guided himself in, shifting the head in and out with thrusts of his hips. Albus sucked hard against his fingers, taking a third in between his lips, further muting his moans and whimpers.

Once Draco's balls came to rest against Albus's ass, Draco removed his fingers from Albus's mouth and took control of his hips with both hands. Holding Albus's hips still, Draco pulled his dick out with a hiss and watched as he thrust it back in the entire length. Albus's body craned and arched and bucked in all the right ways, the dip of his slender back severe as he gripped and clawed at the wall above the toilet for purchase, forehead pressed hard to the cold tiles.

Draco shoved hard, sweat streaking down from his temple and brow, and he wiped and smudged it against Albus's back, mouthing against every inch of pliant skin he could manage to touch. And then he started biting at it, leaving tiny red marks in his wake, and then bigger marks when he sucked hickeys into Albus's fair skin.

Suddenly, Albus bucked and let out a low, keening groan. Draco could hear the slick slap of Albus's fist against his dick as he finished himself off, and then Albus was heavy in his grip. Albus's insides squeezed and convulsed around Draco's dick, and Draco took full advantage of the sudden exquisite tightness by fucking him harder. Holding Albus still, Draco thrust and pulled and slapped his balls to Albus's ass. With a nudge of his knee, he managed to shove Albus's leg up on the toilet, and he found the angle he needed.

Moments later, Draco came inside Albus's tight body. Almost immediately after orgasm, Draco regretted the position and immediacy of their fuck, every limb protesting his stance, every muscle aching in ways he barely remembered.

Pulling out too quickly, Draco stumbled back, resting against the door to the stall and listening to their panted breaths in the air and the whimpers Albus made as he shifted to right his pants and pull his robes back on over his head.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Albus laughed and collapsed onto the toilet. Draco could see Albus's legs quivering from the exertion, and he took pride knowing he could still make someone's knees buckle from pleasure. Tiny bruises littered Albus's throat, and Draco knew there were others canvassing the expanse of his smooth back.

"Thanks," Albus said. "Needed that."

Draco swallowed behind the desire to scoff. Whatever Albus needed, it certainly wasn't about him. But when Albus stood and laid his body against Draco's, lips parted and ready for a kiss, Draco couldn't help but hum in appreciation. The afterglow moments were few and far between for most of his lovers. Astoria had never understood Draco's desire for lethargic, open-mouthed kisses after a hard fuck, but then she had not understood most things about Draco.

Albus fit against him like the perfect wand fit in its master's hand, and Draco felt the same familiar sizzle of arousal pulse between them. Even flaccid, Draco appreciated the hardness of Albus's young body and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Slow down," Draco managed to breathe, as Albus gripped handfuls of his hair and tried to devour his mouth with kisses.

"Or what, you'll spank me?"

Draco scoffed, gripping Albus's arms to push him away at a safe distance. "Feeling better, I take it."

"Much," Albus whispered throatily.

"You might want to apply a glamour to your neck before you return to the party and your father sees the damage I've done."

Draco managed to pull away a suitable distance to right his own pants and robes, though he found he couldn't take his eyes off Albus, who was staring at him just as intently.

"Please don't tell me you're going to disappear into the crowd and I'll never find you again," Albus said, the sound of his voice strangely honest, given the situation they were in where very little had even been shared between them.

"What could you possibly want with me?" Draco asked, brows knitted firmly. "I'm nearly thirty years your senior."

"Did I say I wanted to pick out his and his towels?" Albus teased, grinning. "I just meant I'm not through with you."

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Draco nodded slowly. Albus was insatiable, an eager boy full of life and expectations. Surely, he would grow bored with their age difference, but Draco would not say no to fucking him several more times before that occurred.

"I've got to piss," Albus added, cocking one eyebrow at Draco handsomely. "Mind moving aside or giving me some privacy?"

"Ah, right," Draco said, fumbling with the lock on the door, which hadn't even been switched to secure them inside the stall.

Stepping out, Draco went to the sinks, righting his hair in the reflection above them. He switched on the tap, but before he could wash up, he caught sight of Albus in one of the urinals to his right. Albus's bright green eyes were closed, head tipped back to expose the raw jut of his Adam's apple. Mouth agape, hips cocked forward, Albus gripped the base of his dick as he relieved himself. Not much to Draco's surprise, Albus was not even remotely flaccid. Draco remembered that kind of stamina, the hard-ons that lasted hours, the times at Hogwarts when he jerked himself off between classes in the loo.

Turning off the tap, Draco moved towards the urinal and stood behind Albus. Sliding up against him, he watched Albus's smile in the reflection of the mirror and found it somewhat contagious. Reaching around Albus's wiry body, Draco's fingers worked over Albus's dick and Albus grunted, hips bucking uncontrollably.

"Fuck," Albus panted, laying back against Draco. "Nng…bloody fuck, yeah, just like that, Merlin…"

Draco leaned down, biting the skin at Albus's throat, thrusting against his ass and jerking him off in sync.

"Feels the best right after a long piss," Draco whispered against Albus's ear, worrying the lobe between his teeth. "Just letting yourself release everything, little cock sputtering against the porcelain on the loo."

"Fuck yeah," Albus strained. "So…so close."

Moments later, Albus slurred incoherently as he came with a thrust into Draco's fist. Their eyes met in the reflection, Albus's pupils dark and dilated, unbearably green and honest.

Once they had righted themselves and Draco helped Albus apply the proper glamours to conceal the evidence, they exited the loo just in time for the last remnants of Harry's acceptance speech. Albus nudged him as Harry descended the stage.

"I've got to go congratulate him," Albus said, sighing. "Chore as it is, it must be done. My dad has a fragile ego, to be honest. He'll think he was pants at it—which, yes, he was, but let's not tell him, all right?"

"Give him some dignity, surely," Draco drawled.

"Lovely meeting you, Mr. Malfoy." Albus grinned.

Draco rolled his eyes, refraining from the correction on his name. "Likewise, Mr. Potter."

"See you!"

Albus reached out to shake hands. Draco thought it was overkill, considering nobody knew or would guess they'd just shagged madly in the loo, but he took the outstretched hand even so and was glad of it. When Albus disappeared into the crowd, Draco unfolded the piece of parchment Albus had managed to slip into their handshake. It revealed a simple address.

Clearly, Draco hadn't seen the last of Albus Potter. And he was sorely glad of it. Strangely, he missed him already.


End file.
